Sydney Swans. Locked up a top-two spot and look to clinch top spot on Saturday, putting egg all over the face of those miserable bastards that predicted calamity this season because of their signing of Buddy Franklin.

Tight. Bright. On the money. And cleverly obfuscatory. No one would pick it.

And then, right at that very instant, up popped a tweet, from alert reader Tim Blackwell:

"I'm confused, @Peter_Fitz had this headline 23 weeks ago 'I told you so: it's going to be a Buddy disaster for Swans'

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There was I, thinking that I had got away with it, thinking that 23 weeks ago, and for many weeks thereafter, I could bag the Buddy deal in the papers, on the radio, on the tube, and no one would remember! There was I, really thinking that no one would pick that I was telling porkies when I blamed the "miserable bastards" for doing the same, when no one was a bigger bastard on the subject than me!

Of course, in those shattered moments after receiving the tweet, myriad questions coursed through me.

How?

As in how could someone be so clever as to pick it? I was not long in finding out. Blackwell does the national Nova drive-time show, and as we all know, you have to get up prettttttyearly to get one past someone doing FM drive-time, and I was clearly not early enough.

And why?

Why, when I was trying to hide my views on Buddy, did I have to repeat the same bloody thing, like FIFTEEEN TIMES? Did Jack the Ripper sit under a sign saying I'M JACK THE RIPPER? No. Well, why did I have to do that?

And how?

How did I think I could get away with it, when Australia is so awash with genius FM drive-time announcers, one of them was bound to crack the case?

And when?

When will they let me forget?

And what?

What can I do now?

Sigh. I think I have no choice but to tell the truth.

Look, it really was ME.

Look I am not the only ruddy fuddy-duddy to bloody Buddy ... but I was certainly the loudest, most particularly after the Swans lost three of his first matches. This was only for him to play the house down since, win the Coleman Medal – whatever that is – and guide the Swans to a position of favouritism to win this year's premiership.

But I still stand by every word.

(We interrupt our regular programming to cross to Nova drive-time, where Blackwell has just hit the roof! He's on to me again!)

Earth to Major Tim. Earth to Major Tim. Can you hear me Major Tim? Can you hear me Major Tim? Can you heaaaaaar . . .

. . . am I sitting in a tin can. Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do.>>

For I do stand by NEARLY every word.

Good luck to Buddy Franklin, and congrats to him both on signing the deal of the century, and for the way he has played since. May the Swans win the premiership on his boot.

But the fact remains, that putting the glasses down one lap into a nine-lap race and declaring victory for the genius of the deal, is ludicrous. So far, the Swans' massive punt that it was good business to bet a decade of the franchise on a 27-year-old with bodgy knees and dodgy Saturday nights has indeed worked very well.

And somewhere or other I read that both their merchandising and ticket sales have soared since. I repeat, good luck to them!